Don't Worry, It's Nothing
by i-swear-we-were-sufinite
Summary: The sight of his secret love flirting with another girl appalled him, but the sickening sight only drew Ludwig's attention more. AU and one-shot.


Don't Worry, it's Nothing

A story written in class by i-swear-we-were-sufinite

He stood by the water fountain and leaned against the wall. The bell had rung over five minutes ago, but for once in his life, he didn't care if he was late or not. Even so, it wasn't his intention to skip class. Generally, he worked his hardest at everything he did, especially chemistry, his best subject. His teacher would surely miss him for a while.

He tried not to stare at the red haired boy who held a girl's hand, who laughed with her and gave her flowers he found on the field. His smile reminded him of sunshine; it had a soft, warm glow to it. Whenever he was in a room, it seemed brighter. When he talked to her and whispered in her ear, it was as if he had starved him of his sunlight and left him to freeze.

His friend was nothing special. Despite his incredible ability to attract every girl in school, he was too skinny. He ran away from every bang and buzz, almost as if he thought that anything could kill him. Sometimes it amused him, sometimes it concerned him. He wanted to find everything that caused his friend to scream and destroy it. To many, he was virtually fearless. They assumed he feared nothing; of course the strong, muscular German kid wouldn't flinch at sights that caused the bravest of men to cower in fear. But he had fears, though they weren't as great in magnitude as his friend's.

Her cheeks grew bright red as he kissed her hand. He wanted to tear his eyes away but he couldn't. They were glued to the scene; something inside of him forced him to watch. It was sickening and unfair, but what could he do? Watching the scene gave him uncontrollable anger, yet he could not identify who he was angry with. Was it the girl, who received kisses and touches and smiles from the sun? She did nothing wrong. It was the golden boy himself that left him to resign himself to skive off class just to stare at a scene he wanted to end. But how could he be mad at his friend? His stomach flipped as he watched his hazel eyes stare into his classmate's. He could not be mad at him. He could only be mad at what he did to him. Furious, he slammed his fist into the wall. Nobody had ever told him what to do in a situation like this; figuring it out on his own seemed impossible. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't even look at his friend without his heart racing and he couldn't even tell him, because here he was, flirting with some girl he just met, without a single thought about how he might feel. He couldn't express his anger; his friend deserved the right to his own love life. He would not force his friend to spend time with him alone, to hold his hand or lean against him for a little longer . . . his friend was a naturally tactile person enough as it was. Though he never admitted it, he loved when those thin, pale arms clung to his. His cheeks flushed whenever their hands brushed or their eyes met. He yearned for his friend, yet the redhead had no idea. All of this killed him inside; he had to bite his lip just to keep from yelling out in frustration. He closed his eyes and begged for the pain to end. I love him . . . oh God, I love him-

A jab to the shoulder brought him to attention. In front of him stood his friend, who seemed concerned. His lips were parted slightly and his hair fell into his eyes. The scene had ended at last.

"Ludwig, what's wrong? You look sad, and a little scary, and your face will become tight and scrunchy if you furrow your eyebrows like that all the time." He shook his head vigorously. Pushing himself off the wall, he began to walk towards his class. His friend joined him, taking quick, small strides just to keep up. "You didn't have to wait for me. You're going to be so late!"

"You're late too, Feliciano," he pointed out. "I was just doing a friendly favor. It was nothing." He had once heard that nobody was truly fearless. The brave ones were the people who learn to control them. Though everyone thought him brave, Ludwig couldn't believe it. The terror that washed over him whenever his friend talked to girls was uncontainable. It threatened to burst his chest open, to destroy him from within-he feared that, too. He feared the fluttering in his stomach, the racing heart, the sweating, blushing face-he feared his love for his friend. With simple words, it could destroy everything they had. He wasn't fearless; that was impossible. He simply did not express his emotions often.

"Why do you look so sad? Are you sad about being late? Please tell me what's wrong!" How could he resist the worry that filled those eyes? They were the color of caramel and honey, so warm, so tempting . . .

"NO!" he exclaimed, immediately regretting his outburst. Feliciano backed away; shame filled every part of Ludwig's body. "I wasn't talking to you; it's okay, I'm fine-"

"What's wrong with you?" He spoke with such desperation it broke Ludwig's heart. His friend spoke this way when he was on the verge of tears. He grabbed the muscular boy by the chest, stopping him in his tracks. In his chest, Ludwig's heart stopped. "I won't tell anybody! I just want to know! Please, I want to make you happy!" Oh God, he was so innocent . . . he was observant enough to notice things but he still was so oblivious . . . Ludwig sighed, begging for his heart to stop racing. He just wanted to wipe away the tears that formed at the corners of his friend's eyes and kiss those beautifully parted lips . . .

"Feliciano, I-" he didn't know what he was saying. He felt like he was driving a car, but suddenly lost control of the wheel. "You have no idea." The perfect boy that stood in front of him did not understand. Ludwig did not understand himself. He shook his head and stared at the ground, smiling. "If I could say it, I would."

"Say what?" Feliciano asked eagerly. He gazed at him; his car was spiraling off a cliff. Ludwig simply placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to laugh, trying to invent a lie or an excuse that could turn his situation into some amusing anecdote. All he could think about was touching Feliciano.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps emerged from the distance. Disturbed, the two began to run until they reached a new hallway. Briefly, they stopped.

"We should go to class," Ludwig suggested, grateful for the interruption. Disappointed, Feliciano agreed, but not before patting his shoulder.

"I hope you're not sad after class," he said. "Ciao!"

"Goodbye," he called after Feliciano, who was sprinting to his English class. The sound of the footsteps faded, allowing Ludwig to walk the halls casually. His heart was still racing and his cheeks were still flushed. Relieved, he sighed, the image of his friend, that girl, and what he could never have still fresh in his mind. It was unfair. What he wanted would always be out of his reach; what he feared would always face him. Feliciano would never know how Ludwig truly felt for him. He had to accept that no matter the situation, his affections must always remain a close-guarded secret, locked in deep corners of his mind. The intense, unfamiliar feeling of love that plagued him continuously would always be unknown to the red-haired coward.

The pain his secret caused would always be nothing to his love.


End file.
